


Die Twilight

by LostNTheShadows



Category: Lost Boys (1987), Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Humor, Twilight Bashing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostNTheShadows/pseuds/LostNTheShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Frog brothers can’t let those pansy glitterpires ruin their street cred in the vampire hunting world. Something’s got to be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Die Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> This was from a while ago when the first Twilight movie came out and, you know, the sleeping dog wasn't going to be left alone. Yes, I've read all of the Twilight books. I believe this allows me to shred it to pieces. It's only a fair trade for me never getting those hours of my life back. Here's a little piece of my anti-twilight relief. It actually got so painful for me to work with the Twilight characters that I couldn't finish the short how I originally wanted it to be. It was supposed to be longer and at this point I don't remember what my original ending was supposed to be. Instead it's, well, rocks fall and they all die. So to speak . . .

The Frog brothers did not team up with vampires. Ever. The Awesome Monster Bashers, harbingers of truth, justice and the American way, slayed those neck-sucking bastards of Satan. The undead were guts at the end of their stakes. Ashes at the end of their matches. Coat racks at the end of their antlers.

Except now.

Now the Frogs brothers needed all the help they could get. Sure, they were vampire hunters but even they had standards. As if they would deign to off one such as a glitterpire. Those that don’t even kill humans. Those without fangs. Those who can actually go in the sunlight. Those who think they’re monsters . . . for glittering. These were not vampires. They were rogue pixies that were giving the beasts the Frogs hunted a bad name.

Really. What would it say about the Frog brothers, expert vampire slayers, if all they slayed were shimmering rocks? There’s no honor in that. Those abominations have fucked with the status quo and they must be eradicated so the Frogs could get back to real vampire slaying. It was that or hang up their stakes for good.

So here they all were – in the middle of the salt flats. Totally open terrain. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. Just face to face in the war against posers.

All of the suck-faces were there – Mullet, Twisted Sister, The Little One and Silent Bob. The chick was there. Not sure what good she would do. Maybe her glitter scarves would distract the freaks and she could fashion a noose or something. Even Sam’s brother was there, Michael? He was holding a mace and a hacksaw. Good for him.

Sam? The Frog brothers always knew he wouldn’t be able to hack it in the heat. Him and the shrimp decided to skip out. Pussies.

It was twilight. The glittering things didn’t have night vision and the fang gang would burst into flames in the daylight. So they all had to settle into a compromise.

The salt underfoot glittered like the rogue pixies’s skin. Edgar wanted to puke. Too bad the perfect weapon was utterly useless and mocking them where they stood. The pixies had already proven themselves impervious to pretty much everything. Alan’s holy water balloon only made the blonde chick freak about her hair and two of the goons had already nabbed two of the Frogs’s squirt guns and were shooting each other with them around . . . the parents? Whatever they were. It all looked like the hillbilly Brady bunch to the Frogs.

“We gonna do this shit or what?”

Edgar turned his head just as Mullet flicked his cigarette filter onto the salt. It bounced a couple of times before coming to a standstill and spitting up a small wisp of choke smoke. Gross.

The vampheads kept their composure as the pixies got serious, pocketed the toys and took their, um, fighting stances. When they hissed, the Frogs took a step backwards, fearful of tainted glitter spit. From somewhere in the leather-clad group, a snort made its way to the Frogs’s ears. In all honesty, Edgar thought it came from Star. Him and Alan had to admit, they’ve seen more threatening faces from a six-year-old than the “monsters” in front of them.

Edgar nestled the arrow in his bow and prepared for the showdown. The pixies said their skin was like diamonds. As if those were indestructible.

Just as Edgar was about to put the arrow to his shoulder, Alan nudged him in the ribs. At first he ignored it but when the tap came again, he creaked his head over to face his brother and scowled. He exhaled a mighty sniff but kept his mouth closed.

Alan’s face was blank but his eyes quickly bounced up before looking back down at Edgar. Edgar cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him but when Alan did it again, Edgar couldn’t help but look.

There in the purple sky was a black dot the size of a bowling ball. And getting bigger. In a blink it was bigger than both the Frogs combined and before they could blink again, the earth rumbled under their feet and a small explosion filled their ears.

Poofs of salt filtered up and blocked out what remained of the fading light. Who knew vampires could hack like the skinbags they ate.

Edgar waved at the salt smog in front of his face which did nothing to ward off the white cloud any faster. He looked over at their rickshaw band of pulseless fighters and little white piles settled all over their black get-ups. It looked like they didn’t care, though, as they were too focused on the sight in front of them. Their jaws were dropped and they had to be sucking in nothing but salt.

Damn their vampire eyes. Edgar and Alan had to wait for the cloud to clear. But when it did, their jaws, too, joined in the dropping.

In front of them, mere yards from where they all stood, was a giant wrecking ball being hugged by a small crater. All around the crater were twitchy hands and feet, remnants of dead wombat hair from the pixie with the creepy stare. But other than those random limbs, there was no movement from underneath to lift the massive ball up.

“What the hell now?”

Edgar didn’t know who said it but his eyes scanned the ever-darkening sky until they landed on another dropping something. It was far from the round dot of the wrecking ball but it was close to person-shaped.

In what light remained of the setting sun, a guy, person, whatever, parachuted down, his metallic feet touching lightly onto the salt with the nylon billowing behind him. He unlatched the chute and started walking over to them, the whole of his body hidden under a metallic-looking suit and tinted hood.

He waved one hand at the ball and reached over his shoulder with the other. As he walked closer, the Frogs noticed a tank on the guy’s back and what he held in his hands looked like a flame thrower.

The nightstalkers, being mind readers and all, knew exactly what Iron Man wanted and were at the ball and rocking it out of the crater. The diamond bodies underneath crunched and cracked as the real blood suckers heaved the ball onto the flats and let it roll off a little ways.

The pixies weren’t dead. They groaned and moaned and blood was pooling at the bottom of the little hole, turning the salt maroon.

Metal Man waved them back, reached to the side of the giant nozzle and twisted. The heat burned the Frogs’s faces and they both turned their backs to the flames. Edgar felt around his face to make sure his eyebrows were still there. He blinked rapidly, the salt at his feet slowly coming back into focus in the yellow glow behind him.

When the roar of the flame thrower finally died out and the heat at the Frogs’s backs cooled, the crackling and snapping of a fire filled the air. The Frog brothers turned around to see the wrecking ball crater overflowing with a bonfire and the ball itself looking on from behind it.

The metal guy lifted up an arm and removed his hood. Sam’s head was underneath it. Edgar might have to rethink the pussy thought. The guy was airborne now, after all. Sam finger-combed his hair and looked at the Frogs with that gaped-mouth smile they both wanted to throw things into.

“Who says diamonds are indestructible?”

Another loud noise filled the air and the group looked up to see a C-130 cargo plane soar low over their heads, land on the flats and circle back around to face them. From a few hundred yeards off, they could see a little speck deplane from the open cargo hatch at the rear and come running at them.

As the speck got closer, it became clear it was the squirt and it dawned in Edagr’s head that he was the one that released the wrecking ball. Good aim.

The kid came running up to them with a bag of marshmallows in one hand and skewers in the other.

The Frogs and Sam waved the offer away. No way were they going to eat marshmallows roasted over open pixies. They watched as the real vampires impaled the marshmallows and as they were roasting, Mullet looked over to them and twisted up the corner of his mouth in a demented smile.

“Watch your asses, boys. Even though we tagged teamed these pussies doesn’t mean we like you.”

Edgar kept his face flat but in his mind he was saying, _shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit_.

He knew they shouldn’t have bummed rides from the vamps on the way there. Maybe they should start walking.

The last rays of the sun sank below the horizon and the Frog brothers shivered.


End file.
